


Light my Fire

by Bongo (FlokesDesign), FlokesDesign



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Denial, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, George almost has a mental breakdown, George is worried, Getting Together, I love Ringo so much he's he cutest bean existing ahhh, M/M, Maybe eventual smut idk, Not relevant for the story but George is beautiful, Ringo gets in trouble, Ringo gets lost, implied John Lennon/Paul McCartney - Freeform, ok no smut actually, sick Ringo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlokesDesign/pseuds/Bongo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlokesDesign/pseuds/FlokesDesign
Summary: George and Ringo spend Christmas together in Austria.Everything seems to be alright until Ringo doesn't come back from his walk  and gets lost in the snow.His friend George is everything but calm.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. Two and a half hours

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody :)  
> This the first ever story that I'm writing and I really hope you like it.  
> Since English isn't my first language and I don't have any English beta readers I'm really sorry for any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes.  
> I also don't really know when to put commas as it is super different to German grammar lol...  
> Be free to roast me in the comments and let me know if you find any mistakes!  
> The story is going to be about two or three chapters long I suppose.  
> Big thanks to my friends who proof-read the story for me.  
> Now enjoy!

Ringo couldn’t believe it. In just two days he had planned to celebrate Christmas with his family at home in Liverpool but the flight was cancelled due to heavy snow storms. For the entire following week. Ringo did not want to stay at the place where he was at, which was Austria to be exact. Upset, the usually calm man tried to call a taxi that was willing to bring him home in time, however no one would volunteer to that task as Christmas was close.  
At least Ringo wasn’t completely alone since George had the same issues with getting back home. John and Paul already travelled to Paul's place before the whole shit went down. Good for them Ringo thought. He and George however wanted to go skiing some more before heading home as well. Bummer. Ringo always looked forward to the time with his family in Liverpool, as the whole touring and fame could get very exhausting too. It wasn’t that the lad didn’t like it, music was all he ever wanted to do, but he always looked forward to some normality and cosiness at home, where fame didn’t really matter and he was just Richard. Not this year through, this year he wouldn’t have that possibility and neither did George. Sighing, Ringo sat down on the soft beige sofa in their apartment and hid his face in his hands, massaging his temples slightly. It didn’t take long until a cool hand with warm intentions lay on his back, belonging to George of course.

“It’s gonna be alright, we'll have a good time here as well Richie." Georges voice was soft and warm. Ringo knew that he truly cared but at the same time he felt a little upset about it. Why was it only him who thought of this as a big deal? Didn’t George want to see his loved ones for once after such a long time of touring and travelling? He felt stupid and a little bit embarrassed to feel as shaken as he did but he knew he could trust George. Other that his bandmate John, George didn’t tease him when Ringo was being emotional or begged for peace love and harmony during their sessions. John was a great and fun person and Ringo liked him as a friend, just like Paul, but with George it was different, the other one really understood and was there for him when he needed it. Right now, said lad stroked Ringo’s back in gentle circles, not saying anything but lending him all the comfort and warmth he needed.  
Ringo felt an urge to wrap his arms around George, a feeling he had way too often and wished he could get rid of. His feelings for George were something Ringo was partly in denial of. Of course he recognized the fuzzy feeling in his stomach, felt his heart beat raise and his cheeks flush red as soon as he was with George, or even thought of him, but Ringo kept telling himself that it wasn’t the same he had felt towards his previous girlfriends, given that George was a bloke. Ringo felt awful, almost afraid thinking about spending Christmas time alone with George and his feelings, his infatuation for the other one. If George found about it he’d probably be disgusted and abandon their friendship Ringo thought. Maybe he’d call him a queer, which Ringo didn’t consider himself to be. But in moments like these, where George was so gentle to him and seemed to understand him in a way no one else could, Ringo just couldn’t deny the feelings which tore him down like that.

“Sorry… I am whining like a baby mhh… it’s just… “ George simply nodded at him, continuing to stroke his back before suddenly getting up, clapping his hands together.

“Time to get us a Christmas tree then, let's make the best out of it since it's nothing we can change, innit?” He smiled, revealing his sharp canines and looking oh so beautiful. Just at that and because of George’s cheery tone, Ringo felt his blood rushing to his head and he knew he was blushing madly, just like a lovestruck teenage girl caught by surprise. Oh god, hopefully George wouldn’t notice.

“Mhmh sure, and what are we gonna eat on Christmas eve?” Ringo answered, smiling a bit duller and less cheery, still concerned about his feelings for the other man.

“Well I’m certainly not a cook “ George raised his brows as he continued: “But, my father did show me how to make fabulous stuffed chicken! “

“Groovy” Ringo groaned amusedly and chuckled a bit at the excitement George had written all over his face.  
Actually, Ringo had planned to go vegetarian recently and so did George, however he truly couldn’t say no to George's excitement about stuffed turkey and besides, a little exception would do no harm.

“I’m gonna help you and make some mashed potatoes.”

“Paul's gonna be jealous.“ George threw in immediately. “Eating mashed potatoes without inviting Paul is almost sinful, innit?” Ringo laughed out at that.

“Oi Georgie, don’t act like stuff's different when there are biscuits around “ He answered brows raised, still chuckling. George truly knew how to cheer him up.

“Speaking of biscuits, we need to bake some too now that we're stuck here. I’m not gonna celebrate Christmas with you without any Christmas biscuits!”

“So, what are you gonna do if there are no biscuits? Busy, now aren’t we?”. Ringo enjoyed the lightness of the conversation.

"No biscuits means no Christmas" he got as an answer.

George surely wasn’t a chief cook and so wasn’t he, but he did look forward to the time together. The lingering thought of George finding out about the feelings Ringo had for him was still there but right now Ringo didn’t really care as the joy of the situation was much greater.

When Ringo left the house to do the shopping so they could bake and cook he wasn’t afraid to bump into Beatlemaniacs. The weather was just bad enough that even hardcore fans wouldn’t dare to stick their noses outside, let alone stay outside to catch a Beatle. Not that Ringo would be recognizable in his thick warm clothing anyway. He had decided to take the little wooden sled that the holiday home had provided them with him to carry the shopping on it and to sled to the village, as they were staying a little bit elevated in a mountainous region. Ringo looked forward to sledding down to the shop. From time to time he liked to feel like a child again, careless and free, without worrying about anything. That was something he was ever so grateful of as a Beatle. Having a childishly provocative friend like John and generally funny and open-minded lads like Paul and George around him allowed Ringo to just let go of the stressful everyday life from time to time and just express a joy that just children and artists could understand. Ringo did consider himself as an artist, even though Paul and John liked to tease him for that, but he was happy with being a child at heart and just going through life kindly and good-heartedly. Ringo snuggled more into his thick winter coat and was glad he chose the warmer one that had soft and warm coating inside. It was a nice coat, cut like a poncho it was more than comfortable and Ringo considered it as fancy. Still- the weather was almost unbearable and Ringo was afraid his nose, which was the only thing sticking out between bonnet, scarf and coat, would freeze off. The thought made him chuckle quietly. Ringo Starr without his honker, who would that even be?  
When the short man finally arrived at the tiny grocery store in the mountainous little village they were staying at, he looked more than a snowman or a yeti, rather than a human being. He tried to clean off the snow as well as he could and realized that stepping into the warm building now would only cause it to melt, making him completely soaked. "Oof, too bad. “ He thought but stepped in soon after nevertheless. He was glad to find out that the store had everything he needed to fulfill the dreams of a chief in the making named George Harrison.  
Ringo finished his shopping and went to pay for the products.  
Other than George’s and Paul’s German, which they learned at school, Ringo just knew a little bit from the time he and the others had been in Hamburg. Yet he didn’t want to be rude and he felt sorry for the cashier who barely had any customers and sat there in boredom, waiting for anyone to buy something.

“Frohliche Weihnachten liebes Fraulein” he said to her, trying to spread some kindness. Her face lit up immediately and she answered him, wishing him merry Christmas as well. At least that’s what Ringo guessed, since the Austrian accent made it way harder for him to understand.

“Eine schonen Tag ihnen noch. Auf Wiedersehen” Ringo tried in broken German before leaving the store.

Good-heartedly as Ringo was, every little conversation, every little smile he could conjure made him feel happy and made his day a good one. That of course didn’t mean Ringo would endure everything. If somebody was to disturb his privacy, a curious reporter for example, he gladly told them to fuck off without hesitation. It was the genuine things Ringo felt true about, just a simple conversation with a real interest, not just the screaming and shouting of somebody who wanted to get a lock of his hair and taste some of the fame. Glad that the cashier hadn’t recognized him as he was all wrapped up in warm clothing, Ringo made his way back home through the heavy blizzard. He was glad that it wasn’t George who made his way through this hell of a weather. Thin as George was he would be blown away by that wind, Ringo thought to himself, smiling contently despite the cold.  
It was all well until Ringo suddenly realized he had lost his orientation. The snow grew denser and it seemed as the air had frozen, leaving thick fog to worsen the sight. “Fuck” Ringo groaned, not really knowing what to do now. The way back to their apartment wasn’t particularly long, especially for Ringo who usually loved long walks through the nature, together with George who then taught him about all the different trees and plants they encountered. But despite it not being that long, the way back was a difficult one, as it went up hill and was entirely covered by knee-deep snow now. Ringo was aware that being lost really meant being lost in this case since no one dared to come out of their houses with a weather like that. Already having walked for some time, having been in thoughts and not realizing that he lost his way, he couldn’t see any houses near anymore. He silently cursed himself as he was the one who chose a house remote from the village that was a little hidden too, just like many houses in Austria tended to be. It had been his idea because of his stupid need for privacy, simply because he didn’t like the roaming mass of fangirls and because he didn’t want them go find out where they were staying. Ringo wished someone would find out where he was for once. He sat down under a tall fir that had thick set acicularly branches right above his head. He made sure to tug the sled close under the fir as well so it wouldn’t slide down the slight slope.  
Ringo didn’t know how long he was sitting under the fir. He just knew that the storm got louder and stronger with time and it got colder and colder, especially after having leaft the warm shop and thus indeed having soaked wet clothes from the melted snow. He seriously feared his soggy clothing to freeze and turn into ice.  
The lad knew that his situation was pretty hopeless as there was no chance of finding the way or being found by anybody. Would George look for him? Ringo wished he would just as much as he wished George would stay in the safe warm building. Dammit. If he had just taken the flight back home together with Paul and John. At least he had some food so he wouldn’t starve he thought in a more sarcastic than serious matter. The young man felt a stinging feeling of despair and fear spreading in his chest making him feel overwhelmed and helpless.  
But it wasn’t long until Ringo’s cheerful, naturally happy mind decided not to dwell on his despairing and regretful thoughts. The freezing man supposed that sitting, doing nothing wasn’t the right choice if he wanted to stay warm, especially because he wasn’t sure how soon and if help would occur. Ringo suddenly remembered the time when was only nine or ten years old and he and his mother had built little igloos to hide in. They had spent Christmas in Switzerland back then, having saved just enough money for short winter holiday. It was also when Ringo first tried to ski – and failed miserably. Still, it was a hobby he still loved. Sickly as he had been he got terribly sick right after being in the cold. Enlightened by the memory Ringo started building an igloo just like he had done it with his mother back in the day. Somehow the young man really started enjoying said activity despite his desperate situation. He was singing quietly as he gathered the snow together. “Help!” was quite literally what he needed and it was a great song too. Well, at least he was allowed to sing now that he was all alone, Ringo thought to himself. It was when it started sounding as if Ringo’s voice was doing a strong tremolo with cluttering teeth as a beat, when Ringo finished the tiny snow cave. It wasn't much, nor was it really warm but it made Ringo feel a bit less out in the open and just slightly less desperately lost. When he snuggled into the cave and hugged himself just as warmly as he could, Ringo finally dared to take a glimpse on his watch, the watch George gave him to his birthday making Ringo feel flustered and way too hyped. Right now, he just wanted to see how long he had been gone. Four hours since he had left the house and probably two and a half hours since he left the store Ringo noted. That wasn’t too long and he was already exhausted, depleted by the stinging cold. He felt it creep under his skin making him shiver before feeling more and more tense. The cold hurt and it was a sharp pain, ironically similar to a burn, yet the lad felt almost too tired to feel the pain consciously. How could he spend an entire night like this? Ringo had no clue how to light a fire or what to do in a situation like this. His thoughts, now as naked as could be, unconsciously genuine wandered back to his infatuation with George. He imagined him sitting on the sofa right now watching telly and waiting for him to come back home. Then he imagined George in an apron, making biscuits with all the ingredients he had bought. And he thought of George’s wavy soft hair that was already growing all the way down to his shoulders. His hair and slim frail looking body shape, as well as his lower lash line that one would only notice if they studied George’s face as closely as Ringo did, all these things gave George a certain femininity that stood in a strict contrast with his sharp features, cutting edge cheekbones and his thick full eyebrows. Ringo loved how George looked. He loved his usually slightly too loose shirts and jeans. And oh lord, his hair, he really wanted to run his fingers through it whenever he was with George, wanted to wrap his arms around the skinny lad and squeeze him tight until he would chuckle and tell him to stop...  
There was one memory Ringo held onto the most now. It had been one of the times where George got drunk and thus got all affectionate and well… horny basically. It had only been the four of them as everybody else had already left the club. They had played drinking games that John created all night long and for once Paul didn’t wander off with some random bird, leaving John to look at him jealously. Oh John, Ringo thought, John had the same struggles with Paul as Ringo did with George. Not that John told him or would ever admit it but Ringo knew, it was too obvious to be looked over at. However, on said particular day George had a bit too much in and that often resulted in him getting all cuddly and that. Funny enough that Ringo was the only one available back then. It hadn't resulted in anything serious, only George rubbing a little too much against Ringo. Not that George knew about it the next day. Usually Ringo remembered this with shame and scolded himself for his stupid lustful brain. Right now however he felt nothing sexual about the memory. All he felt was a sense of warmness and joy spreading inside of him. He closed his eyes and decided to dwell in the warm memories that couldn’t physically but mentally warm his heart.

George was upset as he can be. It was a state George wasn’t in very often. Usually he would be all calm and collected and be the source of tranquility and energy for everyone else while facing stressful situations, but right now he was alone and Ringo wasn’t coming back. He wasn't familiar with such a strong feeling of restlessness and didn't know how deal with it at all. Of course, the slender man had noticed the roaring blizzard outside, of course he had seen that it got much worse and of course he knew the dangers of that but somehow he was still hoping Ringo would just stumble in at some point, just to apologize for being late and laughing it off sheepishly. His gaze kept wandering to the door, to the clock and out of the window. "What if-?" No, George wouldn’t finish any of these thoughts. Instead he put on another pullover, noticing the cold even through the house was warmed up by a chimney where wood was making crackling noises caused by the fire. For a moment George closed his eyes and listened too just that, finding a sense of calmness in it. But way too soon even that bit of reassurance started annoying him, making him even more upset and angry. What was Ringo thinking? Why would he even go outside with a storm like that? Why had George even allowed it?  
Finally, he decided to call Paul. Noticing that his thoughts weren’t clear and useful, it would be good to get some help from said lad who always seemed to know what to do when his friends needed something, George thought. Well, actually that was Ringo, Ringo could be more helpful in such situations but given the circumstances... George quietly started turning the dial, selecting the right numbers to call the man with the big doe eyes.

“James McCartney speaking wha- “

“I need to speak to Paul” George interrupted Paul's father James immediately, in a rude matter that was anything but typical for him.

Not much later Paul cooed into the receiver in his usually charming voice. “Hello George, what’s the matter? Shouldn’t you be in the plane right now?”

“No plane, Paul, here’s a blizzard and Ringo…” George sighed audibly through the phone that even John who was with Paul and right next to the receiver heard it. “Ringo went to get food and he got lost and now he’s been gone for two hours and I don’t know what to do, I shouldn’t have let him go out there, fucking hell Paul I- “ George's voice sounded close to breaking down into sobs, shocking the lad himself. “Hush Hush“ Paul tried to reassure.

“No rambling okay? So, what you're saying is that Ringo got lost? And you’re absolutely sure he got lost?” The man with the long lashes shot a short, worried glance at John, making him understand that something serious was going on the other side of the receiver. ”Do you have a chair near to sit down on while calling? Yes? Then do that and take a deep breath okay” Paul tried. “Next you could call the police, they probably have the right equipment to go out there to look for Ringo.“

“Fuck, this is so-…I shouldn’t have-... “ George's voice sounded drowned in worry and the lad felt as if breathing was the hardest task he had ever faced. Still he tried to take deep breaths just as Paul had advised him to. “Ringo is tougher than you’d think okay” he heard Paul saying “You’ll find him and it will be good again do you hear me? “

“Yes, yes... thank you “ George just answered quietly. It was silent for a moment until he added: “I really can’t lose him...” Speaking these words outs loud George realized that he in fact wouldn’t be able to handle that loss. It was a realisation that hit him like a truck but didn’t have any space to be explored and understood at the moment.

“You won’t lose him George“ Paul tried again “I promise”.

George didn’t answer and he knew Paul couldn’t make such promises, but it did calm him a little.

“Now you hang up, call the police and if you need to you can call me back right after, alright?”

“Alright Paul, thank you really...” George meant what he said yet he didn’t want to hang up, but he had to in order to help Ringo. He kept staring at the door for a while longer after Paul hung up, before calling the police and introducing them to the situation. This time George tried to be more collected and clearer about it. He told them where their stay was, where Ringo went to do the shopping and how long it had been since he left the house. They told him that the blizzard would tone down a bit in not much time and that they would get ready to send out some aid as soon as that was the case. It didn’t go fast enough for George. Whilst he had been stuck and not moving forward before, he now couldn’t deal with a single wasted minute that could have been useful at finding Ringo. Of course, he had thought about going out and look for Ringo by himself, but the lad was certainly rational enough to know that two lost Beatles would be even worse than one and that he had much better do here at the accommodation. Now there was nothing but waiting. George called Paul again and they talked a bit until the man, now exhausted from the stressful event, decided to grab his guitar and sing a bit to cheer himself up. He didn’t however hang up on Paul and neither did Paul, letting the receiver lay beside them. It somehow comforted George, having someone else there who he could talk to if he needed to. Soon he would see the short man with the big puppy eyes that had the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen again, George thought to himself as he quietly listened to the weeping of his guitar and closed his eyes to join it doing so.


	2. A lovely Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there lads and ladies :)  
> I'm terribly sorry for taking this long to upload a new chapter. I was currently working on another Starrison story and somehow I didn't feel quite satisfied with this Chapter which lead to this huge delay.  
> I tried to make more paragraphs this time, but I'm not entirely sure if it actually worked.  
> I hope you enjoy!

It was going to be a long night for Ringo and George.  
The latter one couldn't wait any longer. Every second he spent waiting for an update felt like a heavy weight pushing down on him, causing restlessness that disturbed him from deep inside. Would they find Ringo?

  
He watched the snow, gently coating the trees in front of the house more and more, until their branches became heavy, struggling to hold the weight.  
George lit himself a cigarette, not really caring about the big, red “do not smoke in the house” sign. He took a few breaths, let the smoke enter his lungs before breathing out again.  
It didn’t help, his nerves were just as drained and exhausted as before and he couldn’t manage to calm down. To George this was torture. Usually, he always knew what to do, usually he would know how to keep his anxiety together and not exaggerate. But this time it was different. This time it wasn’t something he could actually change, do anything about. His best friend was in danger after all.  
Eventually the lad decided to prepare a few things, in case his friend would arrive soon. Because Ringo had to be found, he just had to come back. There was no way-  
George didn’t want to finish that thought. It was too cruel, too unbearable and most definitely too scary.

  
The blue-eyed lad would probably want to take a warm bath, right? Maybe some hot tea with honey would help too? The younger lad admittedly had no idea how to go about situations like this. Normally, it was Brian who’d take care of them when they got sick on tour, but there was no Brian now.  
Maybe Ringo’s thick lamb wool pullover could warm the blue-eyed man up, once he got back? George loved said pullover on Ringo. It was all black, except on the sleeves where it had equally big white and black stripes.To George Ringo looked plainly adorable in that pullover, with his dorky puppy smile and shining eyes.  
Not that the slim man would ever admit that.

  
With shaking hands and quiet tears rolling from his face, tears George couldn’t stop and knew were caused by his own distress and exhaustion, the man started preparing everything he had thought of.  
It felt like the blizzard outside had moved to his insides, stirred him up and made him feel cold. So cold that he couldn’t help but tremble.  
What he did wasn’t much and maybe it didn’t even make sense, but at least it made him feel somewhat helpful, distracted him at a little from the painful stinging insides his gut, that he knew resulted from fear and worry. George sighed.  
His mood kept switching back and forth between desperation and pure anger at the current situation. He was angry at the chimney that crackled so reassuringly, furious at his warm slippers, his soft pullover and finally himself because something had happened that he wouldn’t ever forgive himself. Because he was sitting inside of the house, safe and hot, because he was alright and Ringo wasn’t. Why would he deserve the warmth of the damn chimney, his stupid slippers while Ringo was out there maybe dying in the cold?  
George knew his thoughts weren’t clear, didn’t make sense and he knew he exaggerated but there was little to nothing he could do against the pain that was spreading in his chest, the sadness that felt like it was taking over. How could Paul and John stay so calm? After all, Ringo was their friend too.

  
It felt like hours had passed until George heard the terribly strident doorbell ring. But in that moment, the plainly horrible, deafening noise, was the most beautiful note he had ever heard. It struck him like a lightning. Having been all curled up and hugging himself, he now was running towards the door and pulling it open aggressively. It wasn’t the best idea since the sudden cold and a ray of snow hit him in the face, leaving him surprised for a second. But the lad didn’t care.  
In front of the wooden door stood the mountain rescue that had been sent out by the police. George had made them promise to bring Ringo to his accommodation, in case said pal was in a decent condition. Why? He wasn’t entirely sure about that himself. Maybe to protect the drummer from crazy Beatlemaniacs storming the hospital, or maybe he just wanted to see his friend again after all the worrying. And Ringo was indeed with them. Sure, he didn’t look like he was alright, but he was alive, he was back and that was all that mattered.  
George had never felt so glad to see his best friend. He let the rescuers in, closed the door behind them and offered them to take a seat. One of the men was carrying a weakened Ringo on his back, another one carried the sled with all the products that Ringo had bought.  
“How is he?!” George croaked with way too much joy in his voice. The man explained him that his friend was indeed not doing too well, that he was cold, hypothermic and needed some fresh thick clothing as well as a slow warming up. George was glad and beaming in pride because he had prepared tea and everything else already.  
“Alright then, let’s get him back together, shall we?”

Ringo felt horrible. No, horrible didn’t even come close to how he felt. His thoughts were dizzy and he was more than confused. It felt like he couldn’t think anymore, just like one might feel before passing out.  
It reminded the drummer a bit of the several times he had to get an operation done and was put under anaesthesia beforehand. The feeling was similar, yet very different at the same time.  
Ringo could barely feel his hands and his feet, and oh lord, everything was so cold. Every tiny movement send a stinging shock through his body and his limbs felt too stiff to work like they were supposed to.  
He heard other people talking but he didn’t really understand what they were saying, for his own breathing seemed to be much louder. Way too fast, Ringo thought, nobody should breathe that fast but he wasn’t in control of it.  
Who were these people? Was he safe? Why would it still be so cold? Ringo felt that someone lay him down on something soft. A sofa maybe? Or just a blanket? Someone started changing him into something warm and dry. The blue-eyed man grimaced slightly, which turned out to be a bad idea, sending more stinging shocks through his body.  
It felt like they cut his clothes off him in order not to move his limbs. Usually, Ringo would protest if anybody laid a hand on him like this, let alone ruined his perfectly fine clothing, but right now he was nothing but grateful. The thing that he felt next was a warm liquid against his cold lips. Some of the distant voices told him to swallow and Ringo was more than glad to do so. It was tea, tea with honey that now ran down his throat, trying to warm him up from inside. But he was still so cold. Why wouldn’t it get warmer?

  
Voices continued to echo through the lad’s head, trying to communicate with him. But they were distorted, distant. Too far away to actually reach him. They wanted to know how he felt, he knew they tried to talk to him, but all he could do now was close his eyes and sink into a deep, cold sleep. He was too exhausted, too exhilarated to stay awake.

  
When Ringo opened his blue eyes a second time, he already felt much better. Something warm was pressed against him, wrapped around him. The drummer snuggled more against that something, desperate for the warmth radiating from it. Eyes closed again, intending to doze a little longer, it took him a while until he slowly realized that it was another person that provided him with warmth. Slowly he opened his eyes, just to see some brown wavy hair, as soft as can be, paired with a beautifully shaped face and sharp cheekbones next to him – George. Ringo allowed himself to breathe in sleeping George’s scent. The man smelled a bit like roasted apple and smoke, a scent that Ringo never knew he’d like that much. It lulled Ringo in another dreamless sleep, this time much calmer and much more comfortable.

  
The third time he woke up, George was gone, much to Ringo’s dismay. Had it been a dream only? No, it couldn’t have. The sweet scent of smoky roasted apple still lingered in his nose, as if he’d just smelled it. But there was another scent too. Something that’s smelled like warm biscuits and hot chocolate. Ringo wanted to see where the lovely scent came from (maybe he could take a glimpse of George in an apron too?) but he soon realized that his body was too weak and he was still too exhausted to get up. Instead, the sickly lad just snuggled more into the warm blankets that George must have wrapped him in. Everything was still so cold, numbingly cold, especially now that his human blanket wasn’t there to warm him up.  
Why had George done this in first place? Sure, they were close friends and they had slept in the same bed multiple times before, but this was totally voluntary. The guitarist wasn’t forced to sleep next to Ringo, there was enough space in this accommodation. It made Ringo blush a little bit and something inside of him finally started radiating warmth. Could it be that George liked him? Just a little bit maybe?

  
Said lad entered the room not much later, but not with biscuits and hot chocolate as Ringo had guessed. George had oven mitts on both of his hands that had a nice red flowery pattern on a white base and held a hot bowl of what Ringo guessed was soup. A small blush crept onto the drummer’s face when he saw George who was in fact wearing the apron provided by the mansion. It was a white apron with red square pattern and way too exaggerated frills on the edges. Ringo enjoyed seeing corny things on people he liked, and he liked George for sure.  
“Oh, you’re awake already!” George said with a bright smile on his face that made Ringo’s heart skip a beat. “I made soup for you but it’s still too hot” he continued before taking a seat on the edge of the bed Ringo was laying in.  
“Thanks” Ringo tried to say but soon realized his voice wouldn’t play its part. Coughing, he took a sip of the now cold tea that was standing on the bedside table from before, now joined by the bowl full of soup.  
“It’s alright” George cooed softly. “How do you feel?”  
Ringo just shot him a gaze, eyebrows slightly raised and nodding, trying to say: “It’s alright, could be better.”  
The older one of them knew George would understand. George always understood, whether they communicated through words or gazes or gestures, it didn’t matter, George understood. The younger man took off his oven mitts and lay a hand on Ringo’s forehead to check if he was feverish before moving said hand to Ringo’s cheek and caressing it with his thumb in slow circles. Ringo felt hot now, a welcomed feeling after the previous events. He could tell that George was a little shy too about it as he strictly avoided to look into his friend’s eyes. But Ringo wanted the guitarist to look at him, wanted him to know that this made him feel warmer that any blanket could. He lay his hand on George’s thigh, slow enough to give the other one time to pull away.  
He felt the brown-eyed lad wince slightly in surprise but relax again soon after. George’s eyes met his and Ringo gifted him a warm smile, mirroring the warmth the slim man provided him. Finally, finally they locked eyes, Ringo thought. It was a questioning look; George didn’t really know what this meant and neither did Ringo. He shrugged slightly signalling George that it was just as strange to him.  
“Uhm, I guess your soup...? “  
“Uh yeah” a hoarse sore voice, coughing again and Ringo wished he hadn’t said anything.  
“Merry Christmas by the way!” George said suddenly, breaking the slightly awkward silence. What? Christmas already? So, it had been two days already since Ringo got lost in the blizzard? He just made big eyes that made the other man chuckle.  
“You’ve been sleeping like a sloth man, sometimes you woke up and drank some tea or ate some soup.”  
Ringo only vaguely remembered that. It made him a little sad. In the end he had looked forward to playing chef cooks together and decorating the Christmas tree.

  
Speaking of Christmas trees, did George get them one? Ringo felt like he missed too much in that one day he slept. A feeling that was painfully familiar to the lad. His entire childhood being one long medical record, he had missed many things that were pure normality for the other kids. The drummer didn’t like to dwell on it or complain, but it did make him sad sometimes.  
Right now however he wasn’t sad. The excitement and warmth, the little nervous butterflies in his stomach that the other man had awoken in him, made him thrilled, happy.  
George started feeding him the soup eventually, now that it had cooled down a little and wouldn’t burn his tongue anymore. With a wide grin, the taller one held the spoon in front of Ringo’s face and pulled it away as soon as Ringo tried to eat from it.  
“Oi!” he crowed out quietly, trying to spare his voice as much as possible. “Bad nurse you are!”  
George started making plane noises, pretending the spoon was one, before finally letting it land in Ringo’s mouth. The latter one couldn’t help but laugh at their childish interaction but he was more than grateful for the light-hearted mood. They both laughed before sitting in comfortable silence, only disturbed by the clinking of the spoon against the bowl whenever George loaded it with another mouthful for his friend.

  
“I was quite worried about you...” the taller one admitted, as he continued feeding his friend. It wasn’t like Ringo couldn’t eat by himself but he was grateful for George’s care since his limbs still felt heavy and exhausted. And besides, who would complain if George Harrison, the most beautiful person Ringo had ever seen, was taking care of you like that, in a corny little apron that he himself had totally forgotten about?  
“It was scary you know? Didn’t know if I’d ever see you again...”  
The light-hearted atmosphere was gone now. Ringo could see the genuine worry on his friend’s face and it hurt him to be the cause for George’s sorrow.  
“Please, let’s not let that happen again, okay?” His friend was quiet for a beat, looking into the distance.  
“I... don’t want to lose you…”  
Ringo felt like he just lost everything, like something inside shattered while being fixed again at the same time. The shaking yet steady voice of George broke his heart, knowing that he was the cause if it shattered it. And yet he felt glad that it was the case, that George cared, that he had worried.

  
Ringo just nodded slightly before carefully pulling George into a gentle hug which was returned immediately. It was something Ringo had always wanted, holding the slim man tight to himself, exchanging each other’s warmth. He took a deep breath, roasted apples and smoke, probably the best thing Ringo had ever sensed.  
He felt a pair of eyes trying to meet his. The drummer dared to look at the other lad and before he knew it, he felt a pair of full lips brush against his. Ringo felt like his heart would jump out of his chest at every second, felt his blood rush into his cheeks, his ears, frozen, unable to return the sweet gesture.  
George noticed Ringo’s tenseness and broke the kiss. Of course, this had to happen Ringo figured bitterly. “Oh no” he thought, “fuck, he’s thinking I don’t like him.” Ringo’s mind raced, overwhelmed.  
The slender lad untangled his arms from Ringo and his eyes wandered to the ground, abashed. To Ringo’s horror George got up right after, leaving the room while whispering a quiet apology  
“Sorry... I just thought...Whatever...”

  
Now the blue-eyed man felt like an idiot, no, like a total asshole. George seemed to actually like him back and he just ...?  
Sighing, the drummer started rubbing his temples, limbs still heavy and a headache sneaking up his spine into his head, making it pound painfully. God, he needed to talk to George, even if that probably resulted in sore coughs and croaking. He didn’t want him to think anything wrong. Why had he reacted like that? Why couldn’t he just kiss back and show him how he truly felt? Why did he just sit there, tensely, too surprised by the sensation?  
Ringo collected the little bit of strength he had gathered with his long sleep and slowly got up. For a moment everything around him turned black and a sharp pain shot through his head again, but soon Ringo regained his sight and was able to stumble out of the room he had slept in.

  
“Georgie?” he tried to croak out.  
He found the lad right next to the phone, talking to someone else. Ringo guessed it was Paul, since George liked to call the bassist whenever he was unsure and Ringo wasn’t available to help.  
“George can we... talk?” Ringo tried again, voice a little firmer. The other man looked at him a bit surprised first before he sighed and said his goodbyes to the receiver before hanging up.  
“You should be in bed Richie” he said and gently pushed the shorter one to sit on the sofa. “Look, I’m sorry, I was just confused a moment ago, let’s just forget it alright?” George tried and he sounded tired, drained.  
No, Ringo didn’t want to forget about the slightly raspy lips that were so gentle and loving to his own. He didn’t want to forget about the warm overwhelming sensation it caused in him. He gestured George to take a seat next to him and carefully took his hands in his own.  
“No apologizing anymore please. If you really want to forget about it, then we’ll forget about it, but if you don’t want to, we could explore this together.” He whispered more than he spoke, but according to George’s widened confused eyes he heard every word. Ringo immediately felt less confident again as he looked into the guitarists unbelievably gorgeous face and felt his heart beat race again. But he wouldn’t back down this time, he wouldn’t tense up and figuratively run away again. He took a deep breath.  
“When I felt all cold out there, I kept thinking about you George and that made me feel warm.” He added, voice shaking and croaking. It was cheesy indeed but not a bit exaggerated.  
And for the third time Ringo felt a pair of warm arms around him. He felt George snuggle his nose into the grease of his neck, almost heard him closing his eyes and breathing in his scent. For a moment Ringo focused on these details before he let go and squeezed the man tighter to himself, holding him close.  
They stayed like this for what seemed like hours, yet way too short for both of their likings.

  
“What now?” George asked a bit unsure. “You’re a bloke.”  
“I know.” Ringo chuckled, still whispering. “Great observation detective.”  
“You know what I mean!” the younger one shot back, but he was clearly amused too and a faint, healthy blush spread on his cheeks.  
“Let’s just figure this out, alright? We don’t have to label ourselves or give these feelings a name.” Ringo suggested, not wanting to think about it that much either.  
It was complicated for the lad. He didn’t think he generally liked blokes like that and certainly didn’t consider himself as a queer person. It wasn’t men he liked, it was just George. He knew that it differed from other queers or at least he believed that. Ringo knew that John for example, even though said lad wouldn’t admit it, looked at other men with that face that read “oh, he’s fine”. John was actually interested in men and women in general. It wasn’t like that for the shorter man, for him there was only George.  
The thought of having an actual relationship with a man scared Ringo, as it was something, he had no idea about and no experience with. Still, he wanted to hug George close like this more often, wanted more of that roasted apple smell and oh, he wanted to run his fingers through the soft wavy hair. Ringo definitely wanted to be close to George, kiss him, do things friends don’t do with each other and show him that he meant the world to him.

  
Yes, that was something he could do now, Ringo thought with excitement, as he carefully tangled his fingers into the thick soft locks of the man in his arms.

  
The rest of the day went by quite calmly. Ringo sat on a chair in the kitchen, wrapped in a thick blanket and occasionally coughing and blowing his slightly reddened nose. Eventually he decided to help George with the cooking, not being able to handle just sitting around doing nothing at all. It wasn’t Ringo’s nature. He usually wanted to help and lend the others a hand when he saw them working busy. George protested a little, rather wanting the older one to rest but Ringo insisted. He wouldn’t just sit there, while George had all the fun preparing the meal for Christmas eve.  
They had put on a vinyl, happy that the accommodation had a record player. It had surprised Ringo, that George had bought some Elvis Presley and other records with cosy Christmas music, that was sometimes way too cheesy to be taken seriously. George sang loudly while Ringo just nodded his head to the beat and smashed the potatoes, he had peeled just a moment ago.

  
Usually, Ringo got more relaxed after confessing a crush, but today it was different. George wasn’t just a crush. Every time their eyes met, it felt like he got an electric shock, causing him to turn red and fastening his heart beat. The short man silently cursed himself for being that obvious. But it was also nice, exciting and warm. He wanted to feel the hot excitement run up his spine, wanted his heart beat to quicken every time his blue eyes met dark brown ones with long bottom lashes.

  
It started getting dark outside and the house begun smelling deliciously much like the stuffed turkey that was still cooking in the oven. George had in fact gotten them a Christmas tree from the village.  
Ringo noticed that the entire house was decorated decently with baubles and fir branches. A satisfied sigh left his aching throat, as he sat down on the sofa, waiting for the turkey to be done. George flopped himself next to Ringo and placed his head into the lad’s lap while laying down, guitar on top of him.  
“It’s time to siiing! It’s Christmas after all!” he announced and started strumming some cords without giving the chuckling Ringo any time to answer. With a warm and comfortable feeling in his chest Ringo started running his ringed fingers through the mop of hair in his lap, a faint blush decorating his face. Since the drummer’s voice wasn’t anywhere near to be existent, let alone able to produce singing noises, he just listened to George’s soft and high, slightly smoky voice. Ringo was happy.  
After all, the shit that went down had resulted in this wonderful moment. Of course, he was a little sad not to be able to see his family this Christmas, but if it meant he could have moments like this with George he wasn’t even upset about it.  
For a moment Ringo just looked at George’s face and took in every detail. The high cheekbones, the smooth skin with slightly visible going-to-be-wrinkles, his thick eyebrows and full lips... How couldn’t he have noticed the sweet, faint blush that tinted George’s face whenever he was with him? Had he been that busy with himself to miss out on something that gorgeous? Or had he just figured it was normal for George? It made Ringo’s heart jump in awe. Yes, he was happy, sickly but certainly happy.

  
The turkey was done and they sat down to eat until Ringo suddenly realized something. He didn’t have a present for George with him! Not having planned to spend Christmas together he had intended to buy George a new plant for his room once they were back home again, but since that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t have anything to give. Maybe the younger one didn’t have anything either? Ringo just hoped he wouldn’t be the only one with empty hands. But his hopes weren’t met, since George suddenly said:  
“I got something for you by the way.”  
Ringo swallowed. And chuckled a little embarrassed and taken aback.  
“Really?”  
“Well, it’s not much but I figured you’d like it. Wait, let me get it real quick.” George went to the Christmas tree and pulled out a little package, hidden behind it. Once again the drummer felt a little ashamed that he didn’t have anything to gift back, as he opened the little package.  
“Oh Georgie...”  
“Yours didn’t work anymore because of the cold, so I got you a new one.”  
Ringo looked at the camera for a little, smiling, before holding it in front of his head and taking a picture of George.  
“Hey!” George squealed surprised.  
“Thank you so much Georgie...” Ringo croaked, meaning it. “It’s a wonderful gift.” And it indeed was. The lad loved photography, it was one of his other great passions besides music.  
They were sitting on the couch again, Elvis still cooing in the background and Ringo used the chance to intertwine his ringed fingers and unexpectedly well-done nails with George’s long, elegant ones that had thickened skin on some places, brought by the blisters the guitar had caused. The younger man let his head sink on Ringo’s shoulder, nuzzling a little, eyes closed. The drummer ran little circles over the warm hand in his.  
“Look, I didn’t get you anything George, I mean...”  
To his surprise George suddenly started laughing, genuinely, openly.  
“You was sleeping Ringo, of course you couldn’t get me anything, it’s alright really.”  
Their eyes met, George still leaning against Ringo.  
“Besides, you already made me more than happy by coming back here, by being alright.”  
“So you’re saying I’m your present? That’s pretty cheesy, you know?” the drummer said, acting seriously but meaning it in a joking manner. George laughed again and lord, did Ringo love that noise.  
“Fine, Fine, I’m cheesy then, but actually yes!”

  
And suddenly it was too much for Ringo and he got dizzy. Suddenly the clear, unhinged laughter, the pure happiness in Georges entire posture and behaviour, the warmth against him and the growing waves of excitement, similar to rage but way softer, got too much and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.  
Their lips met each other a second time, this time not just lightly brushing against one another but fully exploring each other. George let a surprised little gasp escape his lips but he soon slung his arms around Ringo’s shoulders and kissed back just as much. Teeth clashed against teeth and they could have enjoyed it if they had softened the sensation a little more. But Ringo needed to feel him, needed to kiss him harder, more intense. He felt George’s tongue against his gum and he heard the little noise that escaped the other man’s lips. How far would they go? George suddenly climbed on top of him, sitting on his lap and making it easier to kiss each other. Their bodies grew hot and Ringo was close to getting hard when George suddenly stopped and got off him. He looked at the lad confusedly.  
“You’re still sick Richie, you need rest. We won’t go farther than this.”  
“Oh, come on! I’m not that sick...” Ringo groaned disappointedly, longing for Georges sweet taste and wonderful scent. It didn’t help, George just hugged him again, laid his head on his shoulder and sighed satisfied.  
“Another time. We’ll figure out, remember?” George got a nod as an answer and Ringo already felt better when he sensed George’s warm breath against his neck and his long slim arms around him.  
They spend the rest of the evening playing cards while talking and listening to the records again and again. It got dark way too soon for Ringo’s taste. He wanted to see George’s wonderful, beautiful face a little longer. George’s yawning increased with every minute passing and Ringo figured it was time to sleep. They quickly changed and brushed their teeth before saying each other the good nights almost awkwardly before parting and sliding into their beds.

  
Ringo couldn’t sleep yet. Too much had happened, too much he hadn’t processed.  
First he had almost died in the cold and then George suddenly admitted to like him and filled him with the warmest feeling one could have: Love. Love that wasn’t one sided anymore. How did he, Richard Starkey even deserve a beautiful, gorgeous and talented person like George by his side?  
His thoughts got interrupted suddenly. Said man quietly sneaked through his door and to his bed and Ringo quickly shut his eyes to act like he was sleeping. The skinny man snuggled to him under the blankets, tightly wrapping his arms around Richard.  
“You could have just told me you wanted to sleep together.” Ringo murmured while muffling his nose into George’s shirt and hugging back. The other man tensed for a second, surprised that Ringo wasn’t asleep but he relaxed quickly and the drummer didn’t have to look to know he was smiling.  
They stayed like that for a second, all cuddled up against each other before George pressed his lips against Ringo’s, sweetly, innocently this time.

  
“You know what Richie? You said not to label it but...” George started playing with the seam of Ringo’s pyjama that ran down his shoulder, the latter one looking at him now questioning. “After everything you’ve made me go through the last days, this weird roller coaster of things I’ve never felt before, I think it’s safe to say that uhm... That I love you Richard.” This time it was George’s voice that ended in a whisper almost. Heat shot up in Ringo, his cheeks burning and he wanted to say it back, wanted to kiss George, hug him, tell him that he loved him so much, that he didn’t want to leave him but the overwhelming joy clogged his throat, made him unable to form any words. So instead he pulled him closer and rested their foreheads against each other while caressing his cheek.

  
“Oh George...” he finally manages to whisper voicelessly.  
“I love you too”  
But George is already lost in a world of dreams, good ones that leave a little smile on his face.  
Alright then, Ringo thinks, sinking back into the cushions and snuggling close to his new... Boyfriend? He’d tell him another time, maybe this time with an existing voice, maybe this time he’d bring him roses.  
Warmth spreads in Ringo, a warmth that no blizzard could kill, as he joins George and enters a world full of lovely, golden slumbers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, I think that's it.  
> Probably.  
> Maybe.  
> I'm thinking about adding a third chapter but I'm not sure yet.  
> Please let me know if you find any mistakes!  
> Leave a comment if you want, I love reading them, no matter if it's praise or criticism or both :)  
> Have a great day, Peace and Love!

**Author's Note:**

> When Ringo talks to the cashier he tries to say “Fröhliche Weihnachten liebes Fräulein” which means "Merry Christmas dear young lady“ and "Einen schönen Tag ihnen noch. Auf Wiedersehen” which means " Have a nice day. Good bye." 
> 
> Be free to leave a comment, positive or negative, so I know how you liked it :)


End file.
